


Trinkets and trifles

by Jadzia_Bear



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-05 21:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1833433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzia_Bear/pseuds/Jadzia_Bear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles and prompt fics from the Marvel Cinematic Universe, including plenty of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. crossovers. Specific ships can be found in the chapter titles. (For all my ficlets starring Darcy Lewis from Thor please check out my work titled A Bit Enough.)</p><p>Latest chapters...</p><p>Chapter 13: Fitzsimmons: It's okay to cry<br/>Chapter 12: Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson - Come home with me<br/>Chapter 11: Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson - Can I?<br/>Chapter 10: Clint/Laura/Natasha - Want<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bucky/Nat, Bucky/Jemma Simmons - Cupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> afieldofcosmos prompted 'Bucky Barnes/Jemma Simmons, with Natasha as matchmaker'

It’s one of those nights where Natasha wants it slow and sweaty, and by the time she lets him come he’s a quivering mess. She rolls off him and they lie in the darkness of the bedroom, sucking in air as the sweat cools slowly on their skin.

Natasha pulls the sheet up to her stomach. “So how’s that cute little biochemist doing?”

Just the thought of Jemma makes Bucky’s stomach flutter.

There’s motive behind Nat’s words, but no malice. She’s not the jealous type, and keeping this arrangement of theirs strictly casual had been her idea in the first place.

“She asked me to the movies,” Bucky answers between breaths. “I turned her down.”

Damn Nat for starting conversations like this when he’s all post-coital and defenceless. He’s always too honest straight after sex and she knows it. Serves him right for sleeping with a spy, though, he supposes.

It’s three days since he brushed off Jemma’s attempt at a first date, and he still feels shitty about it.

Nat shifts so she’s facing him, head propped on her hand. How a woman can look so composed with sex-mussed hair he’ll never know. “Why did you turn her down?” she asks.

Bucky casually throws an arm over his eyes. “She’s too innocent for someone like me.” Though Nat being Nat, she hears what he means and not just what he says. _I’m too much of a mess for someone like her._

“Just because she’s young and sweet doesn’t mean she’s innocent. You and I had both seen untold horrors by the time we were her age, and she’s had her fair share, too, this past year on Coulson’s team.”

He concedes to her logic with a grunt.

She plucks the arm off his face and turns his head towards her with a thumb and forefinger on his chin. “She forgives you for things you did when you weren’t you, things you won’t forgive yourself for. That doesn’t make her naive, that makes her good for you.”

She releases his chin. “How much do you like her?”

Bucky presses the heels of both hands into his eyes. “So fucking much, Nat.”

She regards him silently for a moment, then slips gracefully out of the bed. “I’m cutting you off,” she says as she starts putting on her clothes. “No more sex. Go buy that girl a bunch of flowers, tell her you’re an idiot, then take her to bed. And make sure you do that thing with your tongue.”

The next night, after dinner, a movie, a first kiss that turns his knees to jelly and oral that leaves Jemma gasping his name, Bucky sends a quick text to Natasha.

_Tell Hawkeye to lend you a bow and some arrows, Cupid. You’ve got a talent for this matchmaking business._


	2. Bucky Barnes/Jemma Simmons - Love potion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a visual prompt on fyjemmabucky.tumblr.com

He takes a moment to admire the sight of her from behind in her strapless black evening gown before joining her at the bar.

“Stark throws one hell of a party,” he says, resting his elbow on the bar.

“Bucky!” Jemma greets him, a smile warming her face. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

He kisses her cheek. “You look amazing, doll.”

She blushes prettily at the compliment and takes a sip of her drink like she’s trying to hide behind it.

“That drink’s nearly as big as you,” he says, nodding at the bright red cocktail with a whole strawberry perched on the lip of the glass. “What do you call that thing?”

“The bartender calls it Love Potion No. 9,” she says with an amused quirk of her lips.

There’s some kind of sugar all around the rim of the glass. A few stray granules grace the fullness of her bottom lip and Bucky couldn’t look away if he tried, but then the pink tip of her tongue sweeps over them and they’re gone.

“Hey, you wanna dance?” he asks suddenly.

“In these heels? Gosh no, I’d topple over!” she says with a self-deprecating grin.

He takes her hand with a smirk. “I’ll hang onto you,” he promises.

 “What about my drink?” she asks, but her smile is knowing and she’s already letting him lead her onto the dance floor.

He stops a little way away from everyone else, draws her in close and begins to sway.

“I’ll get you a fresh one when we’re done.”


	3. Bucky Barnes/Jemma Simmons - I've loved you since...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> usedkarma prompted "I've loved you since..."

James leans patiently against the counter in the lab as Jemma attaches sensors to his torso, just like she has every day for the last month. Her eyes keep darting up to his face and then away again. Her pupils are dilated and her breathing is shallow, but quiet, like she’s trying to hide it.

Her fingers brush his bare chest and linger just a little longer than they should. When she looks up and finds him watching her, she reminds him of a doe in the crosshairs.

“Oh for the love of god, I can’t do this any longer,” she declares, holding up both hands and taking a step back. “James, before I continue your treatment there’s something I need to tell you. I think...” Her breathing is still shallow, but she’s not hiding it anymore. “I think I may be in love with you.”

The words hang in the empty air of the lab and she rushes to fill the silence. “This is terribly unfair of me, I know. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this sort of thing when you’re only just getting your memories back.” Her words are punctuated with little flaps and flutters of her hands. She’s speaking so fast she should be tripping over her own tongue, but the words tumble out unhindered. “It’s just that as I’m the provider of your medical care, you really should be informed, in case my emotions start to impair my judgement in any way. Not that they will,” she rushes to add. She’s pacing now, from one end of the bench to the other. “I assure you I can remain professional. It’s just that sometimes—and I don’t know if you realise this, but your eyes are just so...” She trails off, drifting to a stop in front of him. “And it just makes me want to...”

Her own eyes, big and round and utterly besotted, slide down to his lips for a moment. “But that’s not why I brought this up—” And there go the hands again.

“Jemma.”

He catches up both her hands and holds them as gently as if they were little birds he cradled in his palms. “I’ve loved you since the first day I set foot in this lab.”

“Oh,” she breathes, and lets him reel her in close. “Well, this is working out better than I expected.”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he smiles, tipping her chin up towards him.

“If you insist,” she answers, lips parting with a smile of relief. He presses his lips to hers, just like he’s been dreaming of doing since the day he met her.


	4. Bucky Barnes/Jemma Simmons - Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written in response to a visual prompt on fyjemmabucky.tumblr.com.
> 
> Bucky helps Jemma warm up after she gets caught in the rain.

Jemma hustles herself and her sodden grocery bags through the door of their Avengers Tower suite. Bucky turns from where he’s been staring out the window at the grey mist of rain that clouds the city as she puts the shopping on the counter.

 “Cold cold cold cold cold cold cold,” Jemma says as she strips off her drenched sweater. It occurs to her that Bucky isn’t going to get her Anna reference because he hasn’t seen _Frozen_ yet, a situation that really should be rectified.

“My poor little kitten get wet?” Bucky asks with a sympathetic smile. His lips are warm, and they were probably dry, but they become wet with the icy droplets on her face the moment he kisses her. “Here, let me help you with that.” He starts unbuttoning her damp shirt.

The cold metal fingertips of the cybernetic hand brush the sensitive skin of her stomach and she shivers. “Not that hand!” Her teeth chatter behind her smile and she presses herself into the warmth of the right-hand side of his chest. There are times when the coolness of those fingers is the hottest thing she can imagine, but this is not one of those times.

“Oops, sorry,” he says with a sheepish smile, wrapping his warm arm around her in consolation. “What else can I do?”

“Make us some hot chocolate while I get changed?” she suggests.

“We don’t have any hot chocolate.”

“We do now.” She reaches into one of the grocery bags and pulls out the container. “And then go and start warming up the couch. We’re going to watch _Frozen_.”

“You’re cold, so you want to watch a movie called _Frozen_ ,” Bucky says, like he thinks maybe her reasoning skills got washed away in the rain.

“It’s very heart-warming,” she informs him with a shameless smile as she strips off her wet shirt. She crosses the den in her bra and trousers, and she doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to know that his eyes track her all the way.

She returns a few minutes later in warm, dry yoga pants, a comfy long-sleeved top, fluffy socks and towel-dried hair. As requested, Bucky is on the couch with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. There’s also a thick blanket, and _Frozen_ queued up on the screen ready to go.

She snuggles in next to his (right) side and he tucks the blanket around her.

“So the ice movie? You sure?” Bucky checks one more time.

“I think I can handle it. I’ve got you to keep me warm, don’t I?” she says, resting her head on his shoulder.

“You betcha.” He presses play and kisses the top of her head.


	5. Fitztrimmons - Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yolandaash prompted: Established fitztrimmons. Trip and Simmons go undercover and Fitz feels jealous/left out.

Fitz abandons the little quadcoptor drone he’s repairing in favour of pacing the length of the lab and staring periodically out the windows to the open ramp below. Any minute now Trip and Jemma will return from their Super Fun Undercover Mission of Doom. Super fun for them, what with the dressing up and staying in a fancy hotel, and Mission of Doom for him, because every minute Trip and Jemma spend together without him is another minute they might realise they don’t actually need him in this fledgling relationship-y thing of theirs.

They probably had hot uncomplicated hetero sex all night, remembering how good it is not having to worry about where the third person fits into the equation. Not that Fitz ever minded that aspect of it. In fact, it would probably qualify as the best problem he’s ever had in his life.

Might not be a problem for much longer though.

He looks down the ramp again and out to the grassy field and woods beyond. Still nothing.

He scrubs a hand through his curls as he turns away from the windows and his gaze falls on the D.W.A.R.F. on the counter. It looks kind of pathetic with its two smashed up rotor blades, the result of an unintentionally rough landing.

“Forgive me, Sneezy, you deserve better. Let’s get you fixed up,” Fitz says, sitting back down at the counter. But the moment he sits, a movement at the end of the ramp catches his eye and he’s up and out of his seat again.

As soon as Trip and Jemma spot him, their faces break into tired smiles. They’re both puffing like they just walked ten miles instead of one, sweat-darkened patches under their armpits and smudges of dirt all over them. There’s a tear in Trip’s tank top and a couple of bits of twig in Jemma’s hair.

They’re halfway up the ramp when he reaches them.

“Fitz!” Jemma practically falls into his arms.

“No place like home,” Trip says, dropping his bulky pack on the floor with a groan. 

Fitz would respond, but for that he’d need to be in possession of his mouth, and apparently that belongs to Jemma for the moment.

Her kisses are warm and wet and needy. He wraps his arms around her and responds in kind. She tastes faintly of travel dust, but he can’t actually bring himself to care.

“Our route back was compromised, had to go cross-country,” Trip explains.

“ _Mmph_ ,” Fitz replies.

“You should be glad you weren’t there, Fitz, this mission sucked. One star, would not recommend,” Trip says, hands on his hips.

“It was rubbish,” Jemma agrees, finally releasing her hold on him and stepping aside.

Trip moves smoothly into the vacated space and slides a hand up the side of Fitz’s neck to cup his jaw.  Fitz instinctively tips his head up as Trip leans down.

“Missed this,” Trip murmurs against his lips, sending a delightful shiver through him, and before he can attempt to reassemble any of his scattered trains of thought, Trip’s mouth is on his.

It’s a wondrous contrast, Jemma’s lovely little mouth to Trip’s pillowed lips. Fitz couldn’t pick a favourite if he tried. He presses his palms into Trip’s lower back to bring him even closer.

 “We missed you,” Jemma says. “That billionaire we had to schmooze was the most insufferable person you’ll ever meet.”

Fitz is, once again, unable to respond.

“And the food was terrible,” Jemma continues, completely unperturbed by the fact that Trip’s tongue is in Fitz’s mouth. “And poor Trip couldn’t finish a bloody sentence the whole mission—”

Trip is smiling now so Fitz takes the opportunity to chime in, “—because you kept doing it for him.”

Jemma shrugs hopelessly in his peripheral vision.

Trip kisses him one more time then steps to the side, but he keeps an arm slung over Fitz’s shoulders. “At one point the spectrographic analyser started playing up,” Trip says. “It took us forever to figure out how to fix it and we were both saying—”

Jemma joins him for the next bit. “’If only Fitz was here.’”

“You probably just needed to—” Fitz starts.

“—recalibrate the sensors,” all three of them say in unison. “Yes, we know that _now_ ,” Jemma says with a self-deprecating eyeroll.

“But you had some nice hotel sex, though, I bet?” Fitz says, keeping his voice as neutral as possible.

“No, of course not!” Jemma says, like the mere thought of it was unconscionable.

Trip rests his forehead against Fitz for a moment. “Couldn’t even contemplate it without you there.”

The last of the twist of worry in Fitz’s chest dissolves at those words. “Probably too tired to contemplate it now, though?” Fitz thinks he does an admirable job of sounding like he’d be totally cool if that were the case.

“Hell no,” says Trip, a devilish smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. “That’s what got us through that last dusty mile, the thought of getting back here and having our way with you. Showers first, though.”

He gives Fitz a slap on the arse before heading into the Bus, stripping his shirt off as he goes. “My bunk in ten,” he calls over his shoulder.

When Fitz turns back to Jemma she’s looking at him like she’s about ready to devour him, which would be scary if she wasn’t so impossibly cute. (Alright, it’s still just a wee bit scary.)

“You heard the man,” she says with a sultry arch of her brow before following Trip inside.

Fitz wants to tell her to stop trying to be cool like Trip, but his mouth has gone kind of dry.

Sneezy is going to have to wait a little longer for those new rotor blades.


	6. Steve Rogers/Antoine Triplett - History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the tumblr anon who prompted: Steve/Trip - history.

“How was today?” Trip asks, coming to stand next to Steve at the window.  On the other side of the glass, Bucky sleeps soundly with a drip in his arm as Simmons watches over him, periodically checking his vitals.

“He’s had better,” Steve says. Simmons had warned him that the road from Winter Soldier back to Bucky Barnes was going to be a rough one. She wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, I’ll say,” Trip says mildly, his gaze catching on the half-healed defensive wounds on Steve’s arms. He leans a shoulder against the glass and crosses his arms. “Everyone okay now, though?”

‘Okay’ feels like it would be overstating things a little, so he just says, “Simmons has him on enough tranquilizers to knock out a rhino, so at least he’ll get a good night’s sleep. And tomorrow is a new day.” That last part sounds lacklustre, even to his own ears.

“Try not to sound so optimistic,” Trip chides, his mouth quirking gently, and Steve can’t help but smile and look at the floor, because he deserved that.

“When was the last time you ate?” Trip asks.

Steve can’t recall whether he had anything for breakfast, but the question makes him realise that he’s been ignoring the gnawing feeling in his stomach for a good twelve hours or so now.

“If you have to think about it, it’s been too long,” Trip says. He slides a warm hand over Steve’s stomach and tugs on his opposite hip until Steve is facing him.

This is how it had started between them: Trip coming by to talk to Simmons or Fitz, stopping on his way past to ask Steve how he was doing. Before long it had progressed to Trip bringing him a ‘spare’ sandwich he just happened to have, or pressing a coffee into his hands when Steve refused to leave Bucky’s side, no matter how heavy his eyelids got.

It had been an unexpected delight to learn that he was Jones’s grandson, a point of light during Bucky’s worst week before or since, though in the end it was Simmons who had told him.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Steve had asked.

Trip just shrugged and smiled his easy smile. “Didn’t want you to feel obligated to talk to me, man.”

“’Cause talking to you is such a hardship,” Steve had replied with a quirk of his mouth.

It was after one of Bucky’s particularly bad days—he’d broken Steve’s arm and half of Simmons’ equipment all before ten in the morning—that Trip had taken him aside and murmured softly that he knew how some of the Commandos used to comfort each other during the war, and that he was there if Steve needed him. Steve had been just lonely and desperate enough to accept.

Things between them had remained informal, but more often than not now their time together included a meal or a movie as well.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Trip says. He leans in close and lowers his voice, not that Simmons is likely to overhear them through the glass, and not that she doesn’t already know about them anyway. “I’m taking you back to my place where you are going to eat your weight in Chinese take-out. Then I’m going to give you one of my signature blowjobs.” Steve chuckles because Trip isn’t even trying to make it sound sexy. He could just as easily have said, ‘I’ll run you a nice, hot bubble bath.’ “Then you’re going to plow me into the mattress,” Trip continues, “and _then_ we’re going to sleep like the dead.”

Trip takes hold of Steve’s hand and starts walking backwards, drawing Steve away from the window. “Sound like a plan?”

Simmons is already giving him a finger wave and a badly concealed smirk.

Steve concedes with a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked this, like, at ALL, I'd love to hear from you. Writing crackships can be lonely work! ;D


	7. Steve Rogers/Jemma Simmons - Flowers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the tumblr anon who prompted Steve/Jemma, flowers. (This is a ship I wish there was much, much more of!!)

Steve gripped the bouquet a little tighter and knocked on the door. As he waited, he told the butterflies in his stomach to quit it. Every time it came to asking a girl out, he was 5 foot 6 again.

Jemma opened the door. “Captain!” she smiled. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Ms Simmons,” he nodded. Just the sight of her pretty smile was enough to make his chest feel like it was bursting. He forced his right foot to cease its nervous toe-tapping.

_“Lilium longiflorum,”_ Jemma commented, and Steve was very confused, until he realised she was referring to the bunch of flowers in his hand. “Endemic to Japan, and a rich source of steroidal glycosides,” she continued, like this was a perfectly normal topic of conversation.

He didn’t know what sort of flowers were, he’d just picked them because they smelled nice. “They’re for you,” he said, feeling more than a little awkward as he handed them to her.

Her eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh!”

She held the bouquet to her nose and inhaled deeply. “They’re beautiful, thank you.” That heart-stopping smile again.

She looked at him expectantly and he realised it was his turn to speak. “I came here intending to ask you to dinner, but maybe I should take you to the botanical gardens instead,” he said with a rueful smile.

“Either would be lovely—or both!” she grinned. Then she stopped. “Ooh, that was presumptuous, wasn’t it?” she backpedalled, wrinkling her nose.

Steve smiled and put his hands in his pockets. “Both sounds great.”


	8. Bucky Barnes/Jemma Simmons - Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes/Jemma Simmons vampire AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're going with True Blood vampire rules here, because they're the ones I know the best.

Bucky steps out of the club, exchanging the thumping music and hot, sweaty bodies for the cool night air of the alley. He already has an unlit cigarette in his hand when he notices a young woman slumped in a heap against the wall a few yards away.

“Wow, doll, you okay?” he asks, slipping the cigarette back in his pocket and making his way towards her. “You need an ambulance?”

She’s deathly pale and it looks like it’s no small effort for her to turn her head towards him. “An ambulance can’t help me,” she whimpers. “I’m so thirsty.”

The moonlight reflects off the points of her teeth when she speaks, and he’s known enough vampires to recognise that the way her skin clings to her bones is due to dehydration.

 He hunkers down beside her. “Christ, girl, you haven’t had a drink in days, have you? How come?”

“I’ve been asking people,” she rasps, her voice little more than a whisper, “but I haven’t found anyone who’s prepared to put their life at risk to help a _monster_.” The last word is laden with shame, self-hatred. It’s an attitude he’s only ever seen in very new vampires.

“You been _askin’?_ God help me.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Why didn’t you just glamour someone?”

She lets her eyes close, lets her head tip back against the brick wall. “I’m not going to take someone’s blood without their consent.”

Bucky sighs. Morals this strong, there’s no way she’s not a newbie. “Where’s your maker?”

“I was turned four days ago by a horrible man. He left and I didn’t follow,” she answered.

What an asshole, leaving a baby vampire to fend for herself, especially one as mild-mannered and ill-prepared for it as this one.

“Well, you’re gonna have to drink something,” he says with a resigned sigh. He shrugs out of his black leather jacket—he’s ruined enough clothes doing this to know better by now—and settles down beside her.

He slides an arm behind her shoulders and helps her into a more upright position.

“Oh,” she breathes, only now realising what he’s offering. She pulls in a breath, shaky but deep, no doubt already able to smell his blood through his skin. “But what if I hurt you? What if I can’t stop?” There’s a desperate edge to her voice.

“See this?” He touches her wrist with the cool metal fingers of his cybernetic arm. “It’s fought off vampires a hell of a lot older than you, kitten. I’ll be fine, just drink.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, eyes wide with gratitude.

He holds his hair aside with one hand and guides her towards his neck with the other. Her instincts take over and with her last ounce of strength, she bites.

He winces at the sting of her untrained fangs penetrating his skin—she really _hasn’t_ done this before. But, provided she likes the taste of him, she’ll need regular feeds over the next few days to get her strength back up.

Plenty of time to practice. 


	9. Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson - First time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "It wasn't supposed to happen like that."

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” Bucky said gruffly, hair falling over his face as he bent to pull up his pants.

“Oh yeah? What had you had in mind for our first time, candles? Rose petals?” Sam grinned, doing up his own pants.

“A bed, at least. More than a wall,” Bucky admitted, eyes still downcast.

Sam was a pretty easy-going guy, so when his emotionally repressed mutual crush threw him up against the wall and began tearing at his fly, he’d been more than happy to go with the flow. But he wasn’t about to let Bucky beat himself up over his sudden display of desire.

“Hey, look at me,” Sam said, tipping Bucky’s chin up. “Plenty of time for beds, okay?”

“Is there time for a shower? I’m kind of a mess now,” Bucky said with a small lop-sided smile.

Sam stopped smiling just long enough to kiss Bucky soundly on the mouth.

“Hell yes there’s time for a shower,” he said, leading Bucky down the hall.


	10. Clint Barton/Laura Barton/Natasha Romanoff - Want

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "I just want this."

“I just want this,” Clint says, holding up the comb from the dressing table when Natasha stops kissing his wife long enough to pin him with a look. Maybe the excuse wouldn’t have sounded quite so feeble if he hadn’t been staring at the two of them for a good five minutes already.

Meanwhile, Laura is oblivious, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as Nat’s fingers continue to work between her legs. He has no idea why they’re on top of the covers, not under them, or why Laura is completely naked and Nat is completely clothed, but for some reason it’s crazy hot. Probably Nat’s idea, she’s always the one with the ideas.

“Is that  _all_  you want?” Nat asks with the knowing arch of a brow.

Clint abandons the comb and moves towards the bed. “Well, now that you mention it.”


	11. Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson - Can I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the dialogue prompt "Can I kiss you?"

It says terrible things for Sam’s flirting abilities that when the moment comes, Steve still feels the need to ask.

It’s day one-hundred-and-something of ‘the search’ and they’re in some cheap hotel room in Wisconsin when it all finally comes to a head.

They’ve pushed the furniture back against the walls to give them space to spar, and Sam hasn’t even had a chance to work up a sweat when Steve puts him flat on his back with some sneaky takedown technique that reeks of Natasha’s influence.

So now Sam has the short, scratchy carpet beneath him and Steve’s full weight on top of him. Their noses are inches apart and damn it, Steve’s eyes are _beautiful_ , especially like this, up close and darkened with inner conflict.

Sam shifts slightly to position his hips more comfortably between Steve’s thighs, because lord knows he’s in no hurry to get up, and that’s when Steve asks what Sam would have thought was a wholly unnecessary question.

“Can I kiss you?”

But Sam’s not about to dis someone for getting a hard yes of consent before making their move.

“I’m hoping you’ll do more than that,” he answers, sliding a hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him down.


	12. Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson: Come home with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the dialogue prompt 'come home with me' requested by typhoidmeri :)
> 
> Music festival AU

It was only ever meant to be a bit of festival fun, a handsome long-haired stranger to share Sam’s sleeping bag at night and take in the tunes with during the long, hot days. A three-day weekend of fun in the sun, then they’d both go their separate ways, their memories of the event all the sweeter for their little summer fling.

And it was all going according to plan—until the last song of the headlining act on the final night. All of a sudden Nine Inch Nails is winding up their set with _Hurt_ , and Trent Reznor is singing the line ‘Everyone I know goes away in the end,’ and Sam has the beginnings of a lump in his throat.

Bucky is solemnly holding a lighter aloft with his right hand, but his left one finds Sam’s in the press of singing fans and holds on tight until the last note.

It was a good choice for the final song of the festival. The crowd that had been moshing like maniacs just ten minutes ago is now in a relatively peaceful, if slightly sombre mood. Bucky doesn’t let go as they move like sheep with the throng towards the spot Sam had arranged to meet up with Steve and Nat.

 When they get there they find themselves an out-of-the-way corner. Bucky props one shoulder against the wall while they wait and Sam does the same, putting them nose to nose. They kiss, and it’s a soft, simple, idle thing, but it’s already heavy with goodbye.

Sam still barely even knows anything about Bucky, beyond the fact that he came to the festival on his own and he doesn’t like to talk about his past.

Well, that’s not entirely true, Sam does know some things. He knows Bucky’s a scotch drinker, that he’d rather nap on a grassy hill in the afternoon sun with Sam than go check out a new ska band, and that he has a tattoo of the symbol for A Perfect Circle on his right hip.

Sam slides a hand over the spot where that tattoo is hidden under Bucky’s jeans. “So, where are you going from here?”

“Dunno,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to Sam’s jaw, “probably just gonna hitch my way back west.”

“Oh you’re gonna hitch, huh?” Sam repeats, amused. “You’re no metalhead at all, are you? You’re just a hobo,” he says, tugging lightly on a strand of Bucky’s unruly hair.

One side of Bucky’s mouth ticks up. “You got me all figured out.”

Sam doesn’t, of course, because Bucky keeps his cards close to his chest, but the longer they spend together the more cards he reveals, and Sam’s just not done yet with this lone wolf with piercing blue eyes and an amazing memory for everything ever produced by Maynard James Keenan.

Sam hooks a finger through one of Bucky’s belt loops. “Come home with me.”

Bucky snorts softly. “Back upstate? And then what?”

“I don’t know,” Sam says with an easy shrug. “Figure it out when we get there.”

Bucky pulls back just a fraction, looks down as he considers the offer. “What if you figure out you should’ve left me here? Left it at this?” he says, his casual tone not quite managing to mask his insecurities. And that’s just another one of Bucky’s mysteries, the way he looks so quietly confident by the light of day and yet so vulnerable in the moonlight.

Sam shakes his head. “We leave it at this, I’m gonna slowly go insane wondering where you are, what you’re up to, what tunes you’re listening to, whose bed you’re in.” He brushes the hair away from Bucky’s eyes and tips his chin up until he gets eye contact. “Come home with me.”

There’s fear hidden deep in those brooding blue eyes, but also hope, want.

“S’pose we should do it on a proper mattress at least once,” Bucky concedes.

“At _least_ once,” Sam agrees with a grin. “There’s Steve and Nat. Come on,” he grabs Bucky’s hand, “let’s go.”

 


	13. Jemma Simmons/Leo Fitz - It's okay to cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the dialogue prompt "You know, it's okay to cry."  
> I didn't quite manage to nail the light-hearted tone I was going for, but it's not too far off.

Jemma’s lip quivers as they stare down at the lifeless, furry little body on the floor of the lab rat cage.

“You know, it’s okay to cry,” Fitz says, in what he hopes is a gentle and not at all condescending tone.

A loud sob breaks free and Fitz wraps his arms around her as the tears roll.

He could not be more thoroughly baffled at how she happily puts the rats to their deaths for the sake of an experiment, and yet cries rivers for the stinky bloody things when they die of natural causes.

“That’s Fabio!” she sobs. “He was my favourite!”

Fitz reminds himself that he’s a grown man and that feeling jealous of a dead rat would be beyond ridiculous.

He strokes her hair until she calms a bit. “Shall I go and get a shoebox?”

She sniffs and nods, so he presses a kiss to her forehead and goes off in search of a coffin. As he walks down the hall he pulls his phone out and texts Skye.

_Meet you out the back in 10. I need a popsicle stick cross that says ‘Fabio’ and it’s your turn to dig._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's to the real Fabio the rat (he really was a looker) <3


End file.
